Jade Fern Grove got that lettuce, that cabbage, that broccoli

@Stigmata, backdated a week or so ago

There was a good bit of ground just south of Phoenix Maplewood, and even better--it was unoccupied. There were few things finer than a stroll through a nice forest, and Vercingetorix took this opportunity to relish the peace and quiet. Peace and quiet weren't usually his thing, but he'd barely had any time to himself since they'd arrived here, and he found himself craving it, for once.

It might have been nicer if most of the leaves hadn't fallen already. Instead, the bare branches rattled against each other, creating sort of an eerie racket in the absence of birdsong. Verx paid it little mind, continuing on, humming some tune or another to himself. A herd of buffalo couldn't have phased him, at this point.

if stigmata had come across this place any time before the past week or so, he would have enjoyed its wealth of aromas and potential. he might have been impressed with the place, and perhaps even considered it as a place in which to stake his conquests...

but he had faced ruin just before coming here. he wore heartache and tragedy like a shawl over his panther shoulders, and it colored this place to him in such dreary resolution that he could not ever imagine visiting this place again - let alone appreciating it for the worthiness that it would have had otherwise. he kept his head down, and slithered over the browned, fall-crisp ferns, hardly noticing at all when he passed over the recent tread-markers of another wolf.

Of course, he could never get a moment alone. After following the sound of footsteps--which had so rudely interrupted his thoughts--he turned to stare down the wolf cloaked in gray, his blue-silver eyes cutting through the soft forest light. Hey, man, he called out, slightly gruff (though not unfriendly). You live around here, or something? What's this place called?

Man, he looked glum. Not only that, but the dying scents of many on his pelt suggested that he had once had somebody and now had nobody. Damn, what had he done? What had someone done to him? Vercingetorix waited impatiently for his response, shifting from paw to paw.

try as he might to shoulder through the inhabited grove without conversation, the cheerless wraith found himself accosted by the very same stranger he had smelled before. stigmata lifted his chin pensively, touring the compelling black guard before him with a measured look of scrutiny. he decided rather quickly that a fight with this stag would be unfavorable, but his natural prickliness and days of civil unrest made him respond "does it really matter what anyone else calls it?" with languid carelessness.

he was not surprised at himself for the negative way in which he received the potentially dangerous stranger, but he was disappointed. he had not in fact minded the male's brusqueness, as he didn't feel obligated to pleasantries himself - especially not at that moment - but no amount of preferred personalities would have escaped his snark that day. still, because he knew himself and wanted to course-correct himself if he could, the warhound began a tentative approach towards stagnation.

he sighed.

"i am only passing through to the mountains," stigmata returned, attempting to deflect and making an effort to keep any acid from his tone; straining to sound gentler as he leaned towards diffusion - maybe too late or too obscurely.

He drew back with an inhale, as if offended. Truthfully, he didn't give a shit. But Vercingetorix couldn't resist pushing buttons, especially when he knew he had the physical advantage. Cheeky bastard. Jeez, guy, just a question, Verx responded, brows drawing together in affected pique. Who pissed in your mouth while you were sleeping last night?

Well, at least he tried to sound nicer, after that. The brute nodded, making no such effort to walk back his remarks. Better get there before the snow starts, he remarked rhetorically (any wolf worth their salt knew that). Headed anywhere in particular? They snap at strangers there, too? You'll fit right in, if so. You stupid motherfucker.

stigmata pressed his ears forward, as if straining to comprehend the male's blather, before responding with little more than a coolly derisive snort. the insinuation that he slept hard enough for anyone to simply urinate near him, let alone in his mouth, was asinine, and he found it  absent  of any decent humor - regardless of whether such words had been said only to beleaguer him further or not.    

despite the disturbing disillusionment of watching this dark piece of art go from attractive competitor to jug-headed buffoon, stigmata was forthcoming enough to reveal his intended direction, which rewarded him with...

he stared vacantly at the long-winded brute. he talked much too much, and had the audacity to ask questions after boasting his atrocious manners. stigmata had been willing to comply at first - remain civil, in the least - but he could not conjure up another single want-to after this stranger had proven himself even more mixed-up than he sounded.

without bothering to respond, the black-smoke hound turned to head somewhat along the same path he had been going on; trotting on a slightly different trajectory now that he refused to turn his back completely towards the other male as he went. the only advantage this wolf had over stigmata were the fresher companion scents clinging to his pitch coat, and this only served to make the wardog more cautious of his musty crowing, rather than feeling vexed by it.

Stigmata probably made the wisest choice when he went on his way without another word, choosing to not respond to Verx's childish taunts. All very well, although the dark brute was sort of put out. He was in the mood for a fight now, especially after the other's initial vinegar.

Leida, nomajoka, he called out, then turned and headed away, himself. He would just have to find some fun elsewhere. Somehow, in his three-odd years of life, Vercingetorix hadn't learned that accusing someone of having piss in their mouth wasn't a way to make fast friends.

one last, long glance at those strange split eyes - reminding him of the vacant, unpleasant stare of goats - and stigmata confirmed that the male, as brashly and as aggressively as he had approached the situation, wasn't as off-kilter as he seemed. the stranger knew better than to step up, when they could both end up in the grave for it, but it didn't muzzle him in the least; to no one's surprise.

"same to you, wolf," he called casually over his shoulder, not needing to understand the words uttered to return them. whatever the other had meant, the given tones were mutual. watching him turn another direction, stigmata didn't pick up his own pace to exit until he could no longer hear the dark wolf's pounding steps.